New Year's Past
by Caskett Girl
Summary: Kate's past New Years. One-shot.


So I know this is a little late since New Year's was at midnight this morning… but I just thought of it today. I think it's close enough. Anyway it's just a one-shot. HAPPY NEW YEAR!

* * *

2009

Inside a small, cramped apartment, inside a small, cramped bedroom, Kate Beckett lay on top of her fluffy white comforters, wide awake, thinking about New Year's past. She glanced at her clock. 11:30 PM.

"The New Year special's starting about now," she mumbled.

She never watched it. That was something she only did with her mom.

*******

2001

She tried watching it once after her mom's death, without her dad, without her friends. When the band's played before the big ball dropped, they played her mom's favorite song. Several tears trickled down Kate's cheek. She just wanted to turn it off, and read a murder-mystery under the covers. Not having to worry, and to feel more grief than she felt everyday. But it was her mom's favorite thing to watch, so she kept watching, minus the fact that it tore her apart. Then a new band played one of Kate's favorite songs, and just she had to get up and dance to it. But when the big ball dropped, and everyone shouted, "HAPPY NEW YEAR!" she shut the TV off immediately. That was always her mom's favorite part. It had been years since her mom's murder when she saw the special after she died. And she was getting much better at controlling her emotions during that time, but that was in front of people. She was alone at the time. She ran to her bedroom, and picked up her book _At Dusk We Die_, and threw it against the wall.

"These books are supposed to help me! If they are, then why am I bawling my eyes out?!" she screamed in her room. She didn't care if her neighbors heard. It wasn't her fault that her mom was murdered. Can they blame her? Their moms weren't murdered! The thought just made her cry even more. Just crying made her cry more. She didn't care at that moment that she was a cop, and she never cried. At that moment, she was a heartbroken young girl, and all she felt was hurt. She wasn't thinking about defense skills, or clues, or evidence sifting, she wasn't thinking about anything other than her mom. She kept thinking, 'It's my entire fault. How could I have been watching that when Mom's dead? What is wrong with me?' She knew it wasn't her fault, but it felt like it was.

She heard the apartment telephone buzz, and she went to pick it up, knowing it was the doorman.

"He he lo?" she sniffled. She tried to keep it together.

"Uh, hi Kate. It's Larry, the doorman. Mrs. Lou called me and said that there was a lot of screaming coming from your apartment. Are you okay?" He sounded concerned.

"Oh ya ya yeah. Jujust the tele, the televison. Loud New Ya Years. Ya know?" Kate stumbled. 'So much for keeping it together', she thought.

"Oh, okay. Are you okay, though? You sound like you've been crying." Larry was the only person in the building that Kate told about her mom's murder. He was a really nice guy. He knew what she had gone through. His brother was also murdered, but the killer was caught.

"Uh, yeah. I'm fa fine. No problem." Her voice started to go back to normal.

"Okay, I'll see you in the morning." He replied. Then Kate hung the phone up, and went to retrieve her book. The binding was fine, just the pages were a little bent, but that was all. She carefully picked it up, and crawled under her bed sheet covers. She started reading chapter 12, and she soon fell asleep to silence, but not before crying all over her book. She made sure all the windows were shut, too, so she wouldn't hear the fireworks.

*******

2009

Kate shook the memory out of her head. That time was so embarrassing now, since she couldn't hold it together. She tried to think of happy memories, ones that happened before her mom's death.

*******

1990

"Mom! I want to lick the dough! Dad got to for the pesto pasta!" An eleven-year-old Kate Beckett exclaimed. She held her hand out expectantly, and her mom sighed, "Fine, here you go. But that's all you get. Save your appetite for dinner. And don't add any more sugar. Don't think I can't see you inching your way to the spice cabinet." Johanna Beckett told her daughter.

"Okay, mom. I won't add any more sugar. Just some cinnamon." Kate said. She grabbed the cinnamon bottle, and shook it up, so she could put some on her spoon of snicker doodle cookie dough. Out of the corner of her eye, Johanna saw a puff a brown. Then she started laughing. Hard. Apparently, Kate faced the mouth of the bottle the wrong way, and her face was covered in cinnamon.

"ACK! Spicy! Spicy in my throat! Spicy in my nose! Spicy in my eyes!" Kate screamed. "IT HURTS!"

"Go to the bathroom and wash it off your face. Gently pad it off, don't rub it. Once it's off your face, call me and I'll help get it out of your eyes. Now go! I know it hurts!" Johanna explained. She knew what to do. She got stuff in her eyes all the time. Kate bumped her way to the bathroom, ramming into walls, since she wouldn't open her eyes.

"What happened this time? I'm telling you, Kate got her cooking expertise from me. Always something bad happens. She can't cook, but she can cook up a mess." Jim Beckett joked to his wife.

"I must agree. Only you can cook up a mess." She turned his statement around and fired it back at him.

"Well, hey… I cooked up a pretty mean soufflé one time."

Before she could answer she heard: "MOM! IT WON'T COME OUT OF MY EYES!"

"Got to go." Johanna told her husband. She gave him a quick peck on the cheek, and turned around saying, "I'll be in the bathroom. Katherine was right, by the way. You did eat some of my pesto pasta before it was done. Without my permission. I'm saving that for dinner. Not for your snack. Eat any more, and you'll have one pretty annoyed daughter, because she's looking forward to eating that for New Year's Eve dinner." And with that, she walked quickly to the bathroom, because she didn't want to keep Kate waiting.

"Humph. It was just a spoon. Not gonna hurt anything. Just like a spoon of cookie dough won't hurt either…" He mumbled, tiptoeing to the bowl of dough. He didn't want to make much noise; his wife could hear anything.

"Step away from the cookie dough, Jim. I know that you're inching over there." He heard from the bathroom. 'Now that's just scary', he thought.

Once Johanna got the last of the cinnamon out of Kate's eyes, and Kate finally stopped asking for contacts since her eyes were red from the cinnamon, they were able to sit down to a nice dinner.

Once they were done with dinner, each had a cookie in hand; they all plopped down on the sofa.

"It's already 10:00! When did we eat dinner?" Jim asked.

"8:30. Conversation takes up a lot of time." Johanna explained. She noticed Katherine reading a very thick novel, instead of watching the special. She also noticed that she was reading one of her murder-mystery novels.

"Katherine! What did I tell you about reading my mystery novels?" Johanna asked, her voice full of shame.

"Hold on to that thought. Let me finish my paragraph…" Kate mumbled, clearly into her book. She placed her bookmark in it, and shut it close. "Ok, what?" she asked.

"What did I tell you about reading my books?" Johanna repeated. She was a little impressed that Kate was reading thick novels at her age, but the ones that belonged to Johanna, they weren't for kids. They were very… mature.

"You said last week that I was too young to read these." Kate confessed, snapping Johanna out of her thoughts

"Exactly. So why are you reading it now?"

"Well… I was a week younger last week then I am this week. I'm older now, so I figured that I was old enough." Kate explained, knowing her mom would never buy it.

Well, Johanna had heard that before. "Look, sweetie, this stuff isn't for you, I don't want you reading it until at least the seventh grade. You probably don't even get what's going on, do you?"

"Mom… I'm not 5 anymore. I get what's going on! And I think it's really interesting. Please let me finish? Just this one book?" Kat jutted out her bottom lip, and made Bambi eyes.

Johanna sighed. "Fine. Just this one. But don't go telling your friends about it, ok? I don't want their parents calling me about why their child is reading about the Macabre. And you can only read it at home, understand?"

"Yes, Mom."

"Good. I don't want you getting any ideas."

"Okay, Mom."

"Okay. Now let's watch the special!"

"Why don't we talk about New Year resolutions?" Kate asked. She was curious to see her mother's answers.

"Well, I don't know about resolutions, but I do know a new tradition we can try." Jim said.

"What?" Kate asked. 'This could be interesting', she thought.

"Sleep," he replied. Kate started laughing, and creamed him with her pillow. Johanna chuckled.

"Well, I have a New Year's resolution for you, Katie."

"What's that mom?"

"Find my murderer."

*******

2009

Kate sat straight up in her bead, her face drenched with sweat. 'A memory mixed with a dream', Kate thought. 'Creepy.' She lay her head back in her pillow, and tried to fall asleep. She didn't want to have memory/dream thing again, and she needed to cool down. She was burning up. She got up, and went to the bathroom to wash her face.

"Oh god." Kate said aloud, seeing her face. She was completely pale, except there was a sickly green color plastered to her cheeks. And her hair was spiked out everywhere, sticky from sweat. She splashed nice cool water on her face, and groggily walked back to her room. She opened the windows to get some air, and for the first time in a long time, she fell asleep to the popping of fireworks.


End file.
